


magnanimous magnitude

by exbex



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Feelings Realization, Gunplay, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: This was really all Starsky’s fault.





	magnanimous magnitude

**Author's Note:**

> Dusted this off after a year. It feels...all over the place, and yet finished at the same time.
> 
> No actual gunplay, just a mention of gunplay in a dream/fantasy.

This was really all Starsky’s fault.

Hutch never would have even come close to the idea if Starsky hadn’t made that crack about the size of Hutch’s gun. “That Magnum is huge, Hutch. I’d wonder if you’re trying to compensate for something, ‘cept I know better, seeing as you got no issues walking around naked.” That had been Hutch’s cue to roll his eyes and retort with his own juvenile quip. And he had: “Some of us are just used to handling more.” And it had ended there, with a laugh from Starsky, or at least Hutch had thought it had. But later that night, Hutch startled awake to find that he’d somehow regressed fifteen years, with semen in his shorts brought on by a dream involving his Magnum and his partner.

He would have been able to shrug it off if it had been an average wet dream, with normal kinds of sex. Hutch was, after all, secure enough in his masculinity to admit that Starsky was a good looking guy. Even barring that, he could have blamed the dream on the fact that he’d eaten a slice of Starsky’s disgusting pizza that evening. But the content of the dream was unsettling, involving a very naked, very aroused Starsky on his knees, with his hands cuffed behind his back, thoroughly enjoying deep-throating Hutch’s Magnum.

Hutch was a little disturbed by the content of the dream, sure. It wasn’t exactly an appropriate use of a police issue weapon, or, really, any weapon. But he could have shrugged it all off as a crazy dream if it had just faded away. But the dream was persistent, recurring, dogging Hutch the way everything else in this city seemed to follow Starsky and him.

Distraction came in the form of a particularly nasty case, and finally the dream was banished from Hutch’s consciousness. But like everything else in his life, things would come full circle.

**

The taste of his partner’s skin was not something that Hutch would have ever predicted he would even have the opportunity to experience, let alone memorize, let alone compare from week to week. But here he was once again, attempting to suck a hickey that Starsky’s holster would rub against. Hutch wanted Starsky to have a constant reminder, and he wanted it to serve as flag of sorts, wanted any girl that Starsky would take into his bed to see it.

Hutch’s stomach clenched at these thoughts, but he didn’t want to think about what they meant.

Starsky was protesting Hutch’s ministrations, but the manner in which he was rubbing himself off against Hutch’s hip seemed to belie his words. Hutch forced himself to pull away anyway.

There was a pregnant silence between them in the aftermath, one finally broken when Starsky glanced over at Hutch, flashed his most impish grin, and said, “I’d say you were compensating for something with that little dominance routine, ‘cept I know better, seeing as you practically drilled a hole in my leg.”

Hutch nearly huffed out a laugh, but suddenly the memory of Starsky’s last remark concerning compensation and the dream about the gun came flooding back, and he felt the blood rush to his face.

It took moments for Starsky to pick up that something was wrong. “Hutch?”

“I’m going home.” Hutch didn’t look at Starsky, just stumbled around the bedroom looking for his clothes.

**

Things returned to normal relatively quickly, their partnership something akin to pulling on a pair of gloves that fit perfectly, even after a long summer. It should have been fine, it should have been a relief. But something that Hutch refused to name was missing. Occasionally Starsky would try to ask about it, in that nonverbal way that they had perfected, but Hutch would always break his gaze before it got that far.

**

“Was it really so bad?”

Hutch spent some moments trying to think of ways to both reassure Starsky of his sexual prowess and gently remind him that having sex with one’s partner was generally deemed unacceptable for a variety of reasons. When he finally met Starsky’s gaze, he realized that not only would his partner see through any contrived answer, the nature of Starsky’s question wasn’t seeking those kinds of answers anyway.

“I scared myself. Not because of what we were doing. Something I didn’t tell you.”

Starsky was attempting to feign casual curiosity by raising his eyebrows, but Hutch could tell he was losing patience.

“I had this dream. Have had this dream several times, actually,” Hutch corrected.

“Like a nightmare, or a sex dream?”

“A sex dream. With some disturbing parts.”

Starsky furrowed his brow in confusion.

Hutch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His face inflamed and he couldn’t look at Starsky. “There are handcuffs, and you have my gun in your mouth.”

The silence was long enough and uncomfortable enough for Hutch to risk a glance at Starsky, who now looked completely bewildered. Hutch sighed. “You’re sucking on my gun, like….” He found himself unable to finish.

“Like I’m enjoying it?” Starsky’s left hand curled around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening for a moment.  
“Yes.”

Starsky released the steering wheel and leaned back. “You’re weird,” he stated matter-of-factly.

It might have been the way out that Hutch needed. He could have taken the opportunity. But he ignored the reasonable voice and let his irritation take over. 

“That’s pretty rich, considering that it’s all your fault.”

Starsky looked at him incredulously. “My fault?”

“It’s that stupid comment you made, about the size of my gun being a compensation for the size of my…”

“Now just wait a minute,” Starsky interrupted. “I don’t even remember saying anything like that, for one, and besides-“ suddenly Starsky’s eyes widened, then he flashed a triumphant grin. “Oh I get it; you want me to suck your cock.”

Hutch stared at Starsky, speechless, saved suddenly by the arrival of the suspects that they had been staking out.

**

They had always said that they trusted one another with everything. Hutch wouldn’t have predicted that everything would include this. But then, it was weeks late to begin questioning it. Hutch peered at Starsky, who always seemed thoroughly comfortable in his own skin, even now, even sprawled naked about to take his partner’s cock into his mouth, through half-lidded eyes.

Starsky just gave him a grin. “Ready, partner?”

 _No,_ Hutch thought, and that thought was immediately followed by _yes, seems like I’ve been waiting forever._ It was weeks late to be terrified, but for some reason this seemed to be so much less easy to dismiss.

Hutch feigned nonchalance by putting his hands behind his head. Starsky took it as a sign of readiness, and tackled this just as he tackled anything else that was new to him; with enthusiasm and a total lack of self-consciousness. It proved to be awkward, messy, but Starsky’s inexpert attempts were just earnest enough that Hutch’s arousal wasn’t abated. Watching Starsky hollow out his cheeks and furrow his brow in concentration made Hutch dizzy with both arousal and a somewhat unsettling realization that this…this thing they had been doing, would be something that he would soon have to admit was no longer casual, if it ever had been.

“Starsk,” Hutch’s voice was strangled. He squeezed his partner’s shoulder. “Starsky, come up here.”

“What’s wrong?” Starsky asked even as he crawled up to lay beside Hutch. “Don’t tell me I’m doin’ it wrong.”

The truth _(I want to be close to you)_ was too raw. Hutch gave what he hoped was a convincingly casual smile. “You keep working me like that, and I’ll be too brain dead to return the favor afterwards.”

The look on Starsky’s face indicated that he wasn’t buying it, so Hutch distracted him by taking his flaccid cock in hand and stroking it, hard enough to make Starsky gasp but also stiffen. Hutch moved closer and let go of Starsky long enough to wrap his hand around both of them.

**

When Starsky was awake and alert, he alternated between swagger, smirks, and excitement. When he was sleepy, he took on an innocent look, which was why it felt completely natural to Hutch to be tangled up with him, curly hair tickling his nose.

This was, at least, what Hutch told himself. Was this why he had the dreams about Starsky? Because of the trust that Starsky placed in him, a trust that no one else had ever given him?

He sighed, softly. Maybe he was overthinking all of it. Maybe Starsky was right, and dreaming about his gun in Starsky’s mouth was really him wanting Starsky to suck him off. Maybe he dreamed about Starsky because he felt such an intense attraction. After all, Hutch was only human.

The truth _(I’m falling for him)_ was too raw. Hutch turned his head, looked out the window, thought about the way the city lights drowned out the stars.


End file.
